


Time Heals All Wounds.

by Old_Friends_Bookends



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst-y, Gen, sort of mycroft centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-01
Updated: 2013-10-01
Packaged: 2017-12-28 03:41:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/987238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Old_Friends_Bookends/pseuds/Old_Friends_Bookends
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft gets attacked. Greg saves the day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time Heals All Wounds.

**Author's Note:**

> I do not agree with this at all...

Walking down an unfamiliar street eight year old Sherlock instinctively gripped Mycroft's hand. Mycroft couldn't help but chuckle; despite Sherlock's numerous declarations of the contrary, he was still a little boy and needed to be treated as such. It was half nine at night and they had just come from the morgue. Sherlock liked to go there, he said it calmed his mind. The sky was dark and dreary. It seemed snow was on the way, or that's what the people muttered to Mycroft in lieu of small talk at his parents family functions. They were always so boring, Mycroft wished they'd just stop. He'd be paraded around like a show pony; the never ending dates with young women were beginning to get tedious. Why couldnt she see what Sherlock saw? One day, over a year ago, Sherlock had walked into his room and said "you like boys. Not girls like daddy". And that had been that. Mycroft wasn't so worried about his mother finding out; his father however, was a devout homophobe, he promised to denounce anyone whom so chose the same sex. Chose. Huh. That pissed Mycroft off. Surely nobody would chose to be gay because of all the pain and hate they receive. 

Mycroft was so busy in his thought process he didn't notice the group that desended around them. Sherlock started tugging at his big brothers hand. "Aw. Is this your boyfriend? Fag!" one spat. "Don't be moronic. He's my little brother." Mycroft tutted. One of the gang leapt forwards, his hand curled into a fist. Sherlock yanked his hand away from his brothers and stood watching the fight. "Run! Sherlock. Go!" Mycroft screamed to his younger brother as fists started flying towards him. He wanted to fight, really he tried but there was five of them and Mycroft, being a rich kid, had never learnt to fight. He tried to curl up as small as possible on the floor. Feet and fists were pounding him. Mycroft stayed silent. That's when he got a painful kick to the back; Mycroft clamped his hand over his mouth. Hi eyes burned with tears attempting to fall. "Bet you like this fag!" one of the screeched in an Irish accent. 

"Oil" A deep voice shouted. "leave! Now!" all Mycroft heard was the scratching of trainers on gravel. Sherlock crouched next to his brother and softly stroked his hair. Mycroft sat up and pulls his brother into his arms; eyes scanned the man in front of him. The man was tall, stocky and tanned. Given different circumstances Mycroft would have found him attractive. "Um... Im Greg" he gave a goofy grin; Mycroft felt his heart skip a beat, he could definitely love that smile. "Your brother. At least I think he's your brother. Not much of a talker is he?...... Anyway, he pulled me over here." Mycroft chuckled and stood up; he brushed the blood and dirt from himself as he tried to gain some sort of semblance. "Ah yes. Sherlock restricts his talking. Thank you so much Gregory. My name is Mycroft." he held out a hand and dutifully Greg shook it. "I heard what they were calling you. Nasty buggers. Well, they won't be coming after you any time soon.. If they do, give me a call yeah?" he handed over a small piece of paper with his number scribbled on. "Ah thanks again. And I'd rather you not tell anybody about this, or my orientation. I come from a well respected family and --" Greg cut him off with a wave of the hand. "I went through the same thing. Mum was fine with it though.. Mum was sad at first when I told her. Wanted grankids y'know? But once I told her gay couples can adopt she was fine." Greg blushed. Maybe he shouldn't have said all that....

Mycroft took Sherlock's hand and pecked Greg's cheek. "Thank you once again, dear Gregory. But we must be getting off."

With that he limped away, Sherlock nattering on about bees or some such.


End file.
